It's Weird

Sometimes there are things I see or hear about or read about and I can't help but shake my head and wonder what's up with that?  I know, for some things, there are explanations for the item or phenomenon.  It still makes me wonder why.

Weather would be a perfect example.  Meteorologists can tell me about temperatures and wind and precipitation involved in "fronts" and "systems" but it's still weird to see:

• rain falling sideways
• the sun shining when it's raining (or raining when the sun is shining)
• fog
• hail during the summer

macaque

Then there are animals that make you wonder what God was thinking.  I've watched Discovery Channel and Animal Planet and they spout their theories of evolution and adaptation.  It's still weird to see:

• the platypus
• birds that can't fly
• mammals that can fly
• fish that walk on land
• deep sea creatures
• males who give birth

There are things that are within a person's control.  Decisions made, ideas not thought out, mistakes or just plain defiance of social norms.  It's weird to see (or hear):

• children named Number 16 Bush Shelter, Midnight Chardonnay, Fifi-Trixibelle , Moon Unit, Dweezil, Apple or Rumer.  The list goes on and on, but the little girl named Talula Does the Hula from Hawaii tops my list as the worst name.  Fortunately, a judge agreed and, at age 9, she legally changed her first name--against her parents wishes!
• the designs of roadways like "roundabouts"

• houses made of strange building materials

house made of plastic bottles

• houses painted...uniquely

• certain clothing choices

I know there's a whole lot more weird stuff in this world, but I'd need to write a book to put it all down.  Hmm, that's an idea...

Mothers & Daughters

I watched a movie today.  That, in and of itself, is unusual for me.  There aren't many movies made in the 21st century in which I have any interest.  But I remembered when this particular movie came out eight years ago, it sounded good.  So, I watched Spanglish.

The description of the movie was all about the love triangle that occurs between the husband, wife and housekeeper.  While that is a large part of the plot line, when all is said and done, I found the mothers and daughters theme to be equally strong.  Maybe even a bit more.

There's all these dynamics going on between the two mothers and their daughters, but there's also the wife's mother.  There's blame, jealousy, guilt and anger.  The thing that struck me most was that it is was so typical of many mother-daughter relationships.  Of course for the movie, some things are exaggerated.  But still...

For myself, I've blamed my mother for some of my negative traits.  But it wouldn't be fair if I didn't also give her credit for some of my virtues.  When she was alive and her physicality was diminishing, I felt burdened and, sometimes, overwhelmed.  Since she's been gone, I have felt--when I've had time--adrift and purposeless.

My own daughter has, in the past, blamed me for her own quirks.  I was suffering from anxiety and depression for a couple of years before I realized it and sought help.  Another couple of years later, I had developed Bipolar Disorder.  Those were some difficult years for both of us and my biggest worry was that my daughter's well-being would be compromised by my illnesses.  It didn't help that so many members of my family pretend there is nothing wrong with me.  My mother was the only family member who tried to learn about Bipolar.  I've always been grateful to her for that.

My daughter's teen years were...well, let's just say trying would be an understatement.  During my own teen years, I was a goody-two-shoes.  Mostly because I saw what being bold and assertive did for my older sister.  I didn't want to rock the boat.

My sister not only rocked the boat, she tipped it over a lot.  She seemed very confident and self-assured.  And she wasn't afraid or ashamed to speak her mind, often to her own detriment.  My then future brother-in-law came along and they balanced each other.

I wanted my daughter to be exposed to my sister's strong personality.  We spent a lot of time together.  Especially when my daughter and I lived with my parents.  My mother was very old-fashioned and my sister was much more liberal.  I was somewhere in between on that spectrum.  My daughter ignored the spectrum altogether.  It took me a long time to even start to understand my own child during her teen years.  By the time I was getting an inkling, she was grown.

It has taken a lot of self-control--more than I thought I had--to not interfere in my daughter's life after my mom died.  Well, to not interfere more than usual, anyway. She's still my child.  I care.  But she still thinks "outside the box" in a way I cannot completely grasp.

I understand perspective.  There's the allegory of the three blind men describing an elephant while each touches a different part.  My daughter would eschew the elephant and talk to the elephant trainer.  My own need for the whole truth would be to circumnavigate the elephant, climb under and on top to try to get the whole picture, but I don't know that I would turn to the trainer and get his opinion.  The thing is, unless we combined our information, we'd each still only have part of the
picture.

Anyway, at the end of the movie, the housekeeper (who grew up in Mexico) quits her job because she's fallen in love with the husband.  Also because she sees her daughter (who's about 12 years old) buying into the upper-class way of life with all it's deception and manipulation.  She apologizes to her daughter for having to make her (the daughter) make a decision about her (the daughter's) life at such a young age.  Then she asks her daughter, "Do you really want to change your life, or do you just want to be different than me?"  Or words to that effect.  The girl thinks about it and then says she is "her mother's daughter."

I found it sad and uplifting at the same time.  Sad because I don't know what my own daughter would have said under similar circumstances.  Uplifting because no matter what my daughter thinks, she is "her mother's daughter" and nothing will ever change that.

Not even--I have discovered--death.

"Truth" in Advertising?

I'm finding the apartment search a bit easier than last winter--at least in the respect of searching the ads and watching out for "For Rent" signs.  I'm a little more savvy at recognizing the scams.  And there are a lot of those!


The most prevalent scam is where the person posts an ad that seems to be a great deal.  Like a 2 bedroom duplex in Naperville for $600 a month.  Pets welcome!  So you send an email to them and find out that they had to leave the country because they're a doctor with UNICEF or a missionary or a teacher.  Many of them say they're in Lagos.

Lagos, Nigeria

I had to look it up because I thought Lagos was a city in Texas. Oops!

Anyway, they say they didn't have anyone to leave the keys with, so they have them with them.  All I have to do is send them the first month's rent and the security deposit (equal to the first month's rent) and they will mail the keys to me.  Uh huh.  And I'm the third cousin, twice removed to the Queen of England.  And as the robot said "Danger, Will Robinson!"

I wonder how many people actually fall for it, though.  Probably very few, but I still feel sorry for the any schmuck who gets caught up in the excitement and sends a money order as requested.  (No checks, please.  Of course, because you can stop payment on a check!)

I know at least one person who might've fallen for it.  At least many years ago.  He was always a bit slow. After forty some years he's been taken to the cleaners so many times he finally learned to ask other people before making decisions.  While I have no real fondness for this person that I know, I would still feel badly that someone took him for $1200 or whatever. And while he is in the minority, there are other people like him out there.  They are too trusting, too naive or too stupid to know better.

Another problem I've found in searching the ads is what I call the Carrot Ruse.  The landlord places an ad that screams NEAR PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION! NEWER APPLIANCES!! PETS WELCOME!!!  You notice how each successive statement gets an additional exclamation point.  No rent amount is listed anywhere.  "Near public transportation" means that the train is so close you can see the whites of the passengers eyes and the horn will make your ears ring for an hour.  "Newer appliances" mean post-1960.  "Pets welcome" means you will pay an extra amount each month plus a non-refundable pet security deposit.

Then there are a lot of little things like the misspellings, which can be amusing or confusing: "Well Maintianed", "Newly Remodled" and my favorite "Just steps to Lack Michigan!"

There are the ads that leave you wondering what it is, exactly, that they are advertising:  $589 / 1br - Want a 9th life? - (Contact JUngle JAne).   Really? A "9th life"?  And in a jungle?

Some ads need to be more specific with their adjectives: $755 / 1br - Eviction? Bad credit? 
THAT'S OUR SPECIALTY - (chicago & burbs) I don't want to be evicted and I sure as heck don't want to rent from someone with bad credit!

Then there are the euphemisms.  "Garden" apartment means you are in the basement with those tiny windows that let you see people's feet walking by.  "Cozy" means you'll have to lay on your bed to open your dresser drawers. "Rehabbed" means that the last tenant had a dog that chewed up the rug and scratched up the doors.  "Worth the Price" means it's so expensive you'll have to have a six-digit annual salary to live there.  "Rent Just Reduced" means the place is such a dump that nobody wants to live there and/or the landlord is a jerk. "Close to Everything" means you will have a constant barrage of noise from the businesses next door and the car and foot traffic going by.

But I'm learning to separate the wheat from the chaff, so to speak.  I've got a couple of leads on what I hope are nice apartments.  Tomorrow I go to see one in Lemont.  The exterior looks like a cement block, but maybe inside it's a gem!

Appreciation--The Most Important Part

I've realized that hard water, laundromats or slanted floors don't mean a bloody thing if many of the most important people in your life aren't there to encourage, to praise, to help, to commiserate, to listen...

So I had to use a dozen shims and several small blocks of wood to level my appliances and dressers.  Who cares?  My friends chuckle and my sister helped.  I love them so much!  Even my sister-in-law (whom I've know since I was 7 years old) finally came and saw my place and all the work and decorating I did here in this apartment.  My brother hasn't, but, eh, I'm learning not to care so much, since he doesn't care about me.  It's a work in progress.

My daughter has been here once.  Two days after the movers brought all the furniture and boxes.  One day after my sister and I painted my bedroom.  There were boxes, shelving and furniture everywhere.  I've asked her to come.  I've come close to begging, but I haven't sunk that far--yet.

Now I already have some books packed up, but you can still see all the decorating I've done.  Last month, I drove to Summit to see her and her cat, Bebe.  We had a great day.  She bought me an outfit at Target.  But that isn't what made the day so great.  It was the one-on-one time.  The sharing of time, current events and plans.

It's the people I miss the most.  No, the beings.  I miss Jessicat, who had to be put down the week after Christmas.  I miss Emmy, who my sister helped find a home for before Christmas.  I miss my daughter, who is just too busy to come and see what her mother put so much time and effort into.  I miss her cat, Bebe, who spent so much time with me for six years.  And I miss my mom, big-time.

I hate talking on the phone.  But I miss being able to call my mom to share something funny that the cats did.  Or to tell her about the new book releases that she would be interested in.  I'd like to tell her that I love her one more time.  I'd like to make tea for us and sit with her and talk.

The thing is, having the people I love come, show an interest, and show they care about me, helps me deal with the grief.  I spent the first six months after my mom died being busy and physically active.  Once all the work, calls, searching, moving, painting, decorating and projects were done, my grief rose up and said "Time to deal with ME!"

I can't do it alone.  I saw my psychiatrist last Saturday.  He wants me to get a therapist again.  Fine by me.  Except I can't afford the $40 per session it would cost.  At least, not at the moment.  And then I have to spend at least one session bringing this person up-to-date on everything that has happened.

My sister can't stand people crying or being depressed.  She seems to think it's a weakness to let others see you when you're not upbeat and happy.  She accepts anger much more easily than sadness.  My friends listen, but they have crap going on in their lives, too.  Mostly, all three of my closest friends have spouses.  I realize that marriage takes work and that needs to be their primary focus.  But they do help and I appreciate that so much!

My advice to everyone is don't take the people you love for granted!  All of a sudden, they'll be gone.

Appreciation--Part VI--Spare Room

“Daughter of Eve from the far land of Spare Oom where eternal summer reigns around the bright city of War Drobe, how would it be if you came and had tea with me?” 
― C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

I always loved that line.  The land of Spare Oom.  I love the land of Spare Oom.

At the condo I had for five and a half years, I didn't have a spare room, exactly.  I had a huge front closet with shelving that held an enormous amount of stuff.  I also had the building's storage space right outside my back door.  Granted, I shared that, but out of the six units in my building, only two others used it.

Otherwise, I have always had a spare room.  Even in my first rental, after Brittany was born and took my spare room, I had a basement and an attic.  At my parents' house, there was a spare room and several storage spaces, not to mention the shed and the garage.  If you've seen older posts, you'll know how packed full of stuff they were, too!

So when I moved and found I had one closet for the whole apartment and no option for storage nearby, I gave up a part of my bedroom to create more storage space.

Now that I have to move for the second time in six months, I am trying to get, if not the land of Spare Oom, at least generous closets (plural!) or storage space in the building.

Hard Water and Electric Heat & Cooking Addendums

I just have to say that Lemi-Shine is abso-posi-lutely fan-freaking-tastic!!!!  Note the mixed and divided adjectives and overuse of exclamation points!  I googled the stuff before I bought it and somewhere around page 7 of all the hits, I found one lone comment about using it for washing dishes by hand.  Basically, since the main active ingredient is citric acid, unless you're sensitive to it, it's not going to hurt anyone or anything.  I have been adding this stuff to my dish water, to the water when I hand wash my delicates, and I use it to clean my stainless steel sink.  My glassware is clear, my metal bakeware is spotless and my ceramic mugs are bright!  When I wiped the stuff in the bathroom, I sprinkled Lemi-Shine on my sponge.  I could go on and on.  It really gets rid of the hard water spotting and clouding.  Believe it!

I also have to add to my gripe session on electric cooking.  I forgot to mention the bloody burners!  When I set a burner to medium, I expect it to stay at medium heat.  Noooo, these stupid things keep getting hotter and hotter and hotter.  I have to keep turning the burner down as I'm cooking.  Very annoying.  Now this could just be this particular stove.  The blasted thing also has its burner knobs on the back on top, so I have to reach over the hot burner to turn it off.  However, I do remember the electric stove at my condo.  It wasn't as bad as this one, but I do remember having to watch everything when it was on the burners.  Since I had a young child at that time, I lost count of how many times something boiled over!  I like to see flame.  I adjust the flame height and it stays where I want it.  Fie on electric heating and cooking!!

Appreciation--Part IV & V

I’m combining Items 4 and 5 since they’re both referring to natural gas for heating and cooking.

I do not understand why anyone uses electricity to heat or cook with.  It is very expensive!  There is a reason for the expression “now you’re cooking with gas!”  The expression came from an early advertisement for gas stoves.  Of course, that was back when people were switching from wood or coal burning stoves.  Still…it has relevance when comparing gas to electricity.

So yeah, I’m complaining.  BIG time.  But what does that get me?  Nothing, really.  Well, okay, at first it got me some advice.  And partly it was bluster because I was embarrassed that it took me six weeks to figure out that each room had its own radiator.  Oops.  But the issue still remains, electric heat and cooking is inefficient.

I know that there was natural gas being used before electricity.  Case in point: gas lamps.  They were thought to be the greatest thing back in the late 1800’s.  And they were, compared to open flames on candles and torches.  When Tom Edison did his thing, the powers that be switched the gas lamps to electricity.

I will admit, electricity for lighting is cleaner.  I’ve burned enough candles to know what happens to your ceiling when you have an open flame.  But for heating?  Phooey!  Yes, I said Phooey!  It’s a perfectly acceptable word and it is appropriate in this case.

I’ve lived in enough places to have used both forms of heating.  Actually, I my first rental used steam heat radiators.  But something had to heat the water, right?  Unless you’re lucky enough to have a natural hot spring running under your home that you can tap into.  But I digress.  I’ve compared the cost of electric heat to gas heat.  My parents’ house was approximately 1100 square feet divided into two stories.  My condo was 1000 square feet sprawled out on one level.  The gas bill at my parents’ house was less than my electric bill at the condo.  Of course, I had lights and appliances…  Sheesh!  I’m giving myself a headache.

Forget the heat issue—for now.  Cooking with electricity is a pain in the tuchus.  I’m slowly getting the hang of it.  The first pan of brownies I made back in February ended up like warm pudding.  (Actually, it was pretty tasty—I just had to use a spoon!)  The second pan was too dry.

I’ve worked out that I have to set the heat a bit lower and check what I’m baking a couple of minutes sooner than the time in the recipe.  The thing is, the longer something has to bake, the more you have to turn down the temperature.  I’m sure there is some ratio of time to temperature that my brother, the mathematician, could figure out.  I just try different temps and cross my fingers.

Maybe it's the other way around?

On top of that, the consistency of my ingredients can make a difference in the timing.  I made pumpkin bread that came out just a bit dry.  It was good, just that little bit over.  A few days later, I made a sweet potato/rutabaga bread.  (Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it…it was very tasty!)  The sweet potato/rutabaga loaf was noticeably more moist.  The same recipe, different main ingredient, same temp, same time.  But the rutabaga was much wetter to begin with since it came from a can.  Don’t even get me started on the seasonings I used.  I should’ve used cinnamon, but the recipe called for pumpkin pie spice since it was a recipe for pumpkin bread…  More digression, sorry!

What was I saying?  Oh, yeah.  To bake a snack pan of brownies, I turn the temp down just a little for the 10 minute bake time.  For the sweet bread, I turn it down nearly 25 degrees lower for the 60 minute bake time.  I’m getting the hang of it—mostly.  But I don’t like having to do all that.  It’s hard for me to remember all this stuff, although I am writing more things down.

Thankfully, the weather has been pretty good.  I ran the air conditioner three times last week.  And I try to put off turning it on for as long as possible.  I don’t know how efficient it is.  The fact that this apartment has very little insulation doesn’t help.

I can hardly wait for next fall and winter—NOT!